


Diamonds

by FayJay



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-13
Updated: 2009-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayJay/pseuds/FayJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Scene - in which Lilah picks Faith up in a bar</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diamonds

The club was not Lilah's usual style. Her hair, her makeup, her clothing and her jewellery all proclaimed her a cut above the rest of the crowd. Most, though by no means all, of the boys and girls dancing and drinking and groping one another were years younger than her. It didn't matter. There was a knack to fitting in to any environment; it was simply a matter of attitude, and Lilah Morgan had that in spades. Fuck you, her demeanour said. You can't afford me. But I _might_ overlook that just this once. Or not.

Already the thin fabric of her blouse was growing damp around the collar and she could feel her skin flushing from all the body heat being generated by the dancers. Lilah had no desire to spend any longer than was absolutely necessary in this place. The floor was unpleasantly sticky beneath her shoes and the smoke stung her eyes; and if another person bumped into her there was a distinct possibility that she would have them professionally filleted while she watched. Luckily, the Slayer was easy to find, despite the grainy quality of the photographs in her file. Lilah sipped a drink and watched her through the crowd. She was a striking girl - trashy, but striking - and she moved like she owned the place. Predatory. Reckless. Older than her years. Lilah watched Faith narrowly as she moved from one person to the next, shimmying through the dry ice and strobe lights with the kind of dissolute abandon that Lilah would never indulge in herself. She recognised the game, though, unsophisticated as it was; Lilah observed the way Faith wrapped the other dancers around her little finger and she smiled into her glass. Dozens of pairs of eyes were fixed on the girl's tits and ass, watching her gyrate her hips and toss her unwashed hair. She ground herself up against first one body, then another, with a carelessness that spoke volumes; like she didn't give a damn who she danced with, or who she fucked. This was not a girl who cared for hearts and flowers, or even first names.

Such a crass type of power, though. For a Slayer to feel the need for so much cheap affirmation meant she was all kinds of vulnerable. But then, the files had suggested as much. If she played this right, it could be quite a coup for Lilah Morgan. It was just a pity that Lee and Lindsey were already in on the game.

Lilah could pinpoint the precise moment when Faith became aware of her gaze. Nothing subtle about it at all; the dark eyes fixed upon her with an expression that left nothing to the imagination, and the performance, she knew, was now being directed at her. Lilah tried to see herself through the Slayer's eyes: polished and sharp and beautifully incongruous in her tailored suit amid the goth t-shirts and the bright manmade fabrics; a little too old and a lot too classy for her setting, and aware of it, and not giving a damn. Amused. Aloof. Intriguing. She watched Faith writhe against a tall boy whose dreadlocks half-hid his face, and she loved the fact that nobody in the place other than her so much as suspected that this slutty little teenager with her smudged makeup was the only girl in all the world chosen to fight the good fight and defend their insignificant lives from the forces of darkness. Well, practically the only girl in the world. A white trash superhero in lip gloss and leather who thought she was bad. It was almost sweet.

Lilah turned her back on the dance floor and scanned the people propping up the bar. Her gaze came to rest on a tall girl with fair, close-cropped hair and a scatter of piercings that glittered in the lights. Lilah crossed the room with a deliberate swing of her hips, certain that Faith was watching her go.

"Maker's Mark," she told the blonde. "No ice. Actually, better get two." The girl took in her expression and checked her out in a manner that was just this side of offensive. It was a brave little attempt to pretend she wouldn't do absolutely anything Lilah told her; but she was already pulling a wallet from the back pocket of her jeans like a good girl and waving to the bartender while Lilah leaned back against the bar and watched the oiled slide of muscles on a pretty gay boy dancing in a cage nearby. How very 80s. This really was a pitiful excuse for a club; Lee would probably adore it. She reached out a hand without looking at the dyke and a glass was pressed into her grip. "And the other," said Lilah, still not looking at the blonde as she swapped the glass into her left hand and stretched out her right hand expectantly. After a heartbeat's pause the second glass was hers too. "Thank you." Out of the kindness of her heart Lilah treated her benefactor to a dazzling smile, and then proceeded to ignore her altogether.

An optimistic and unwashed man in his mid 20s sidled up and opened his mouth to make some doomed attempt at a pass, but she froze him with one withering look. "Keep walking," Lilah said, with a world of scorn compressed into three syllables. His ego shrivelled under her gaze and he slunk away into the crowd.

It was good to be Lilah Morgan.

A few moments later the Slayer stalked off the dance floor. Lilah handed her one of the glasses and Faith accepted it without any appearance of surprise. She knocked it back and pulled a face. Coke was probably more to her taste, reflected Lilah; something cheap and tooth-rottingly sweet. Should have thought of that. She felt the corner of her mouth curving involuntarily, and the Slayer's eyes flashed; but she didn't flinch when Faith dropped the empty glass onto the floor at her feet. By this point in her career Lilah was long past being easily shocked and a broken glass wasn't a blip on her radar, but Lilah wasn't at all sure whether Faith was pleased or disappointed by her nonchalance. She ventured an amused expression and arched one delicate brow. For a split second she thought the girl was going to punch her, but then Faith's face was split by a dazzling smile. She really was a very pretty teenager, but only a complete idiot would be reassured by her guileless expression. Just as well she hadn't let Lee try to contact the Slayer himself.

Up close Faith smelled of cigarettes and gummy bears and other people's colognes. She was watching Lilah with her head cocked and her dark eyes speculatively narrowed; it was like being observed by a stray dog in an alley and wondering whether it was about to bite. Now, how to begin? Lilah set her glass down on the bar behind her, licked her lips and drew a deep breath; but before she had a chance to frame her opening gambit Faith stepped forward until barely an inch of smoky club air separated their bodies, rested one hand possessively on Lilah's hip, snaked the other behind Lilah's neck and pulled her down into a kiss. Lilah had barely a second to register how very strong the Slayer was before Faith's mouth closed on her own, and she was tasting candy and ashes on the girl's hot tongue.

Faith kissed just the way Lilah had thought she would (and she realised, as she slid one manicured hand down to cup the solid curve of Faith's ass and tug her closer, that she had given the matter some thought): no subtlety at all. Urgent and angry; aggressive and hungry and wanton and wanting; a kiss that promised messy alley-sex and torn nylons instead of hand holding or whispered sweetness. Lilah kissed back hard, and felt the muscles in the girl's cheeks shift into a smile around the tangle of tongues. Faith wasn't wearing a bra, this was abundantly clear. Lilah could get very easily distracted by the firm, warm curves plastered to her body. And this, intoxicatingly, was the Slayer; the thing that all the monsters feared. Or most of the monsters, at least. Lilah had read all the reports, sketchy as they were, and she thought she knew Faith's type; she felt quietly certain that with a little effort she could own this girl, body and soul. A pet Slayer would be one hell of a useful toy, in all manner of ways.

"You got someplace to go?" Faith's expression combined boredom and challenge in a way that was pure teenager. Or impure teenager, to be more precise. Considering the trail she'd left in her wake so far, odds were that Faith's intentions weren't entirely friendly. Lilah found herself almost liking the kid.

"Yes," said Lilah, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "As a matter of fact I do."

"Cool."

Faith hooked a finger into the waist of Lilah's skirt and pulled her forward into another quick kiss, sliding her left hand inside the tailored jacket to cup one breast and circle the nipple idly with her thumb. Lilah let out a small involuntary groan and dug her nails into the girl's shoulder. In retrospect, telling Lee to meet them outside the club might have not been Lilah's best idea. She bit down on Faith's lower lip a touch too hard, and was pleased to note that the Slayer didn't flinch. All this super strength could make for a very interesting time in bed. Lilah wondered just how strong the girl really was, and whether she could break handcuffs. Lilah had some very sturdy handcuffs.

"C'mon." Lilah took a moment to catch her breath as Faith strode towards the exit, parting the crowds like Moses parting the red sea, had Moses been a curvy and homicidal teenager who looked irresistibly fuckable in leather, that is. It was a pity Lilah so rarely had a chance to combine work with pleasure, she thought wistfully, as she followed the Slayer to the blessed cool and quiet of the outside world.

"I've got a proposal for you," said Lilah as they crossed the parking lot.

"I thought the word was proposition." Faith replied with a broad grin. It was not a reassuring expression, but Lilah dealt with vampires and Kankanath demons on a daily basis. "I like your suit. Must have been pretty expensive. Guess you're not exactly living on skid row."

"It was very expensive - but then I'm very rich. That's one of the things I'd like to talk to you about." Lilah was aware that she was not at her most suave, but these were trying circumstances. She was hot and bothered and kind of pissed about the fact that Lee Mercer was about to arrive in a fucking company car; not that screwing the Slayer at this precise moment was necessarily the smartest move, but Lilah was having a little unaccustomed difficulty thinking with her head right now. Other parts of her anatomy were clamouring for her attention.

Faith shrugged. "I guess we can go somewhere and talk. But I'm not much of a talker, I'm more of a doer." Lilah would bet a month's wages that this was indeed the case; and she'd have cheerfully given up several months' wages for the chance to find out just what Faith could do. The Slayer was strong, but she wasn't nearly as smart or as bad as she thought she was. Lilah thought it would be very enjoyable teaching the girl a thing or two about humility and about power. Having the Slayer writhing and naked in her bed was just too tempting a prospect, and Lilah had never been good at resisting temptation. Now, however, was just not the time.

"I think you might have misunderstood my intentions." She wasn't entirely surprised when Faith rounded on her with a glint in her dark eyes.

"No. I think you misunderstood mine."

Where the hell was Lee? Faith was suddenly in her personal space all over again, and the edge of violence was far more pronounced. Lilah felt the sudden pressure of the chain link fence at her back and wondered what it said about her that this was making her even wetter. Faith's fingers closed around her wrist and Lilah was acutely conscious of the fragility of her own bones. She had read the reports on Faith's victims. They had been - detailed.

"I like that watch. Diamonds, right?"

"Faith..."

That startled her. "How do you know my name? I don't think I told you?"

Fuck. Make the supernaturally strong and homicidal teenager scared and angry, Lilah. Smooth move. "We are well aware of who you are," she said as soothingly as she could, playing the momentary psychological advantage for all it was worth and vowing that Lee would suffer unspeakable torments for his failure to show up on time. Assuming that she didn't get herself killed in the next few minutes. "And what you do. We know you've been experiencing some difficulties. We think we can help bring some order back to your life." She smiled sweetly, but couldn't help flinching when Faith slammed her hand into the fence a heartbeat later.

"We do, do we? Who is _we_ and why do they know about me when I don't know jack about you?" The relief Lilah felt as she glimpsed the car was palpable, but she was far too good a lawyer to let it show on her face.

"Green is my favourite colour. I look good in diamonds. And I love riding in limousines."

She looked over Faith's shoulder at the long stretch black limousine pulling incongruously to a stop amid the hot dog wrappers and the broken hypodermics. It was difficult to contain her smugness at Faith's surprise, but Lilah felt a flash of irritation at the sight of Lee's pasty face peering out of the interior. The little shit had done this on purpose just to rattle her.

"Faith," he said self-importantly. "Can we talk?" Much as she despised the uptight little bastard, Lilah did enjoy the way that Faith was temporarily deprived of speech by his arrival.

Lilah loved working for Wolfram and Hart.

She was impressed by the kid's chutzpah when Faith turned around with a fair attempt at nonchalance. "I like black."

As she followed Faith into the limo, Lilah promised herself that she would see Faith naked and Lee bleeding in the near future. Not necessarily in that order.


End file.
